


don't let go yet

by plaidcest



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: AU, Chris Argent approves of Scallison because Scallison is fucking endgame, Derek / Stiles - Freeform, Derek is an alpha, Erica Boyd and Isaac are alive and well, First Kiss, I can't even with this one, M/M, also Sheriff's name is John, and like I felt this idea was perfect for the song, asdfghjkl;, like seamlessly perfect, the song gives me so many feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-27
Updated: 2014-10-27
Packaged: 2018-02-22 20:03:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2520026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plaidcest/pseuds/plaidcest
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Its Senior Prom night and everyone is currently getting all dressed up to go and have the time of their lives, and here he is, sitting in Derek Hale’s living room because a monster broke his leg.</p>
            </blockquote>





	don't let go yet

**Author's Note:**

> Don't Let Go Yet - David Roch 
> 
> __________________________________________________________

Stiles let’s his head flop back against the wooden chair he’s currently settled in. His entire left leg is at an awkward angle from how low this particular seat it, and the cast is quite clearly visible in his eye line; try as he might to ignore the living fuck out of it. It’s ruined all of his plans. Its Senior Prom night and everyone is currently getting all dressed up to go and have the time of their lives, and here he is, sitting in Derek Hale’s living room because a monster broke his leg.

He glares down at the bright pink cast. He’d passed out from pain on the way to the hospital and Melissa wasn’t on duty but Scott managed to convince whatever nurse was picking out the colors that Stiles would want a bright pink one. This was probably payback for the bright pink hair dye Stiles stuck in Scott’s shampoo. Erica and Allison had laughed about it all week, while Scott tried to hide it in any way possible from the rest of the school population, with little to no actual success; it had been bright ass pink, the brightest one they had.

Speak of the devil and he shall appear, though, and so Scott wandered into the living room from the main floor bathroom all decked out in his suit and tie with his hair only slightly pinkish (it was highlights, very cute Scott, Allison had reassured him, besides the lights are all gonna be dark in the gym anyways, everyone’s just gonna think it’s a trick of the lights) and still completely un-styled. He’s trying to fiddle with his tie and fix the little handkerchief in his pocket at the same time and it’s just making everything worse. Allison soon leaves the kitchen in her dress that matches the color on Scott’s tie to a ‘T’ and she pushes his hands away to fix him up before running off to help the girls continue getting ready; they’d taken over the dining room table, hence Stiles’ super-duper small chair.

Melissa was sitting on the loveseat beside John while they watched the teens all flitter about excitedly. Chris Argent was getting the cameras ready for the barrage of photographs that would take place just before everyone was to leave. The guys had all taken control of the upstairs main bath, and the main floor main bath, and it was absolutely a special kind of hell that they were currently in. In that aspect, Stiles was sort of glad he wasn’t going. On the other hand, he’d be the only senior to sit this out and just hang out with the pack parents until they all went to their respective homes.

The pack was planning on coming back here for a special sort of after party that consisted of stumbling drunkenly around on the preserve while they all played around and just relaxed. Stiles was staying so he could at least look after everyone when they came back to the house, made sure they all ate and drank and hadn’t overdone it with the wolfsbane alcohol, or normal alcohol for the normal humans.

Derek wandered out of the kitchen and plopped down onto the empty couch of the living room, his face screwed up in exhaustion. Apparently Erica or Lydia had found out that Derek, being one of the few boys in a family mostly dominated by females, had been subjected to the wrath of his sisters all while he was growing up. He was younger than most of them, and so they would dress him up and put makeup on him and nail polish; he knew how to do all of that stuff to perfection, they made him do it all so much, and while Derek did not make a pretty girl, his eyebrows of doom and frown that trumps every single picture of grumpy cat had kind of ruined the aesthetic, he could put makeup on other girls like a boss. They’d roped him into helping with their makeup. And before Stiles had hobbled into the living room he’d seen Erica’s finished makeup and she looked like a freaking runway model.

“I am never helping them ever again. Next time, if you find out something like this is happening Stiles, I want you to shoot me with a wolfsbane bullet.”

The sheriff laughs and Chris shakes his head with amusement while he still fiddles with the expensive camera collection. Melissa grins while Stiles reaches over as far as he can from his place on the stool, which isn’t very far mind you, and pats what of Derek he can reach, this ends up being one of his massive biceps. One of his massive, and warm, and really smooth, and did he mention massive? Biceps. It’s like the dude curls monster trucks instead of weights. Jesus Christ.

“Awe come on, Sour Wolf, it’s not that bad.”

Boyd walks out from the side hallway in which most of the guy’s stuff was put, the same hallway Scott had come from when Allison fixed his tie, already all spiffed up with an actual smile on his face. Stiles couldn’t help but grin.

“Lookin’ good Boyd.” His suit was white with all the accents being a deep red like Erica’s dress, a bowtie settled around his neck instead of an actual tie. Surprisingly, he pulled the look off really well. Erica peaked out of the kitchen for a moment and actually squealed, making Derek and Boyd slightly wince from the pitch but Boyd’s face quickly settles into an amused expression as Erica saunters into the room.

The rest of the night goes about the same. Lydia acts like she doesn’t care how Jackson looks, Jackson acts like he doesn’t care how Lydia looks (though they both stay speechless for a moment and hold each other tightly for pictures on the front porch steps because the newly built Hale house is fucking picture-perfect). Scott and Allison are still completely puke-inducing-ly adorable. Danny is looking sharp in his suit (they’re picking his date up along the way, Danny hasn’t said who it is but Stiles thinks that’s because it may be Greenberg) and tie. Erica and Boyd look ready to hit a runway and win awards for being famous models, not go to Senior Prom in a tiny Californian town. Isaac is all wide smiles and open affection for everyone in his normal black suit, that still fits him perfectly (he’d stopped being such a dick to everyone when he realizes no one had any ulterior motives towards him).

All in all the group looks so gorgeous they’re going to make Stiles cry. Derek helps him stand up by the parents while Chris takes pictures and Stiles obnoxiously pokes at Derek in between faking loud sobs and making everyone laugh at his self-deprecation jokes. He still wishes the damn monster hadn’t broken his fucking leg.

He pouts as they all pile into the limo Derek rented for the night and Scott, along with all the ladies and maybe even Isaac, give him kisses on the cheek. Danny ruffles his unruly hair and Boyd gives him a look before hugging him tightly and then subsequently disappearing behind tinted windows. Jackson hops in the driver’s seat with a smirk, yelling that Stiles not wait up for them. Stiles may give him both birds, and then get cuffed over the head by his dad, but it’s still worth it when Jackson rolls his eyes and grins as they all drive away.

Derek helps him back to the house. Melissa and John drive off with Chris Argent, all heading out to do whatever old people do when their houses are no longer filled with teenagers. Stiles settles onto the couch this time, and wraps a thick blanket from off the back of the couch around his shoulders. He flicks on the TV to try and wait the night out.

He’s not very good at waiting, as it turns out. (Who knew?! he certainly did, and he’s pretty sure so does everyone on the entire planet but he’s having a crisis here at not being able to go to his fucking senior prom with his friends like he and Scott had planned out the day they met in third grade after Stiles apologized for peeing on Scott’s sandcastle).

He manages to maneuver his way into the kitchen without using his crutches, because he’s stubborn that way, and he leans his hip against the doorjamb and watches while Derek flickers about, cleaning up all the makeup the girls had left out and also cleaning up the mess from the supper everyone had packed into the kitchen for before they’d started getting ready.

Derek doesn’t pause in his organization of makeup products, nor does he even look up to the door but Stiles still gets a “you gonna stand there being a useless lump?” comment and so he snorts, because it’s what he does, before he hobbles over to go make a mess of all Derek’s careful organization.

Derek flashes the teeth and eyes at him. Stiles simply grins before simpering out “My, what big teeth you have.” Derek’s features go back to normal and he raises an unimpressed eyebrow.

“All the better to rip your throat out, m’dear.” Stiles’ grin widens and he plops into one of the seats (which are so much more comfortable than that fucking stool, holy hell). He keeps his hands to himself as Derek reorganizes and packs things away. Once the dining room table no longer looks like the entire makeup section of Wal-Mart had puked upon it, Derek stands up and holds out a hand to Stiles. Stiles pretends to grumble but takes it anways and let’s Derek help him back into the main part of the kitchen.

“You know, I never thought that I’d have this many friends in my senior year. It’s kind of unbelievable really. I’m not sure if one day I’m gonna wake up and everyone has been a dream I created.” Stiles announces while he leans on the counter and hands Derek random dishes from behind him to put in the dishwasher (something Derek had originally protested, but upon Stiles insistence and many many ways of persuasion, he’d caved). Derek tilts his head curiously while he packs away the mess.

“Which part of it seems like a dream to you, the friends? Or the whole supernatural mess that comes along with those friends?” Derek asks, and it doesn’t seem like a joke, his voice is calm yet serious. Stiles rolls his eyes.

“Please. I always knew something was up with this town. My mom had told me stories; it just wasn’t until recently that I learned how very real those stories were. She always said she’d explain when I was older… She just… Never got the chance I suppose.”

Derek glances over at him for a second before handing him a washcloth and Stiles immediately turns around to wipe the counter down, hoping he’s not giving off all his weaknesses in scent for Derek to easily read.

“Dance with me.” Stiles blinks, and his hand pauses on the counter. He turns around and Derek’s looking at him expectantly.

“Um. What.” Smooth, Stilinski, smooth. (The patronizing voice in his head always sounds a little like Jackson).

“Dance with me.”

“You need to work on your transitions there Sour Wolf.” Derek rolls his eyes.

“You… You wish you were with them right now, I know. So dance with me, because they’re all dancing. And maybe tonight won’t be nearly as bad as you’re feeling it is right now.”

Stiles blinks, because while Derek has sort of opened up recently, this is definitely a new development. Derek freaking Hale wants to dance with him because he’s missing his senior prom. What even.

“I... I can’t.” Derek’s face almost infinitesimally falls before Stiles motions to his very bright pink cast. “I don’t know about you, or if you’ve ever had a cast on because of your freakish healing powers, but I can’t even properly walk in this thing.” He can’t quite shower either, which was his main source of decent Stiles time and now it’s been reduced to this awkward chicken dancing while trying to keep his one leg completely out of the water.

“I’ll help you, it’ll be easy. Come on.” Derek grabs his arm and helps him to the living room, where he pulls out his phone from his pocket and places it in the speaker system Erica and Isaac had insisted on getting and having installed with surround sound. Stiles stands awkwardly to the side while Derek moves the coffee table like it’s a simple leaf in the wind and then he’s standing in front of Stiles.

“I’m not sure about this, Derek…” If he does this… Well Stiles may sort of have a giant crush on the grump-wolf, not that he’d ever actually admit it, and being that close to Derek… He’s not entirely sure if Derek’s noticed, what with how blind he is when it comes to reading people, but Stiles thinks they’re getting somewhere, that they may even be friends, and he wouldn’t be able to stand it if Derek went back to being the cold person he was before.

There is also Stiles’ general clumsiness to factor into this particular equation. Derek rolls his eyes and grabs one of Stiles hands, like full on linking of the fingers and everything and Stiles thinks his heart might rip right out of his chest because holy jesus, _Derek’s hands_.

“Step on my feet.”

“What.”

Derek raises that impatient eyebrow and looks down at their feet and Stiles' ridiculously pink monstrosity that is attached to his leg and holding his bones in place. “It’s not all that hard a concept. I’ll do all the walking, and I’ll hold you up so you don’t fall over, just put your feet on top of mine.”

“I’m not a child!” Stiles protests and Derek’s fingers simply tighten their grip for a second before they’re pulling Stiles hand and guiding it around his neck (and Stiles can totally feel the softness of Derek’s hair against his wrist and his arm and oh holy god now he’s nearly chest to chest with Derek freaking Hale and he’s going to die. He’s totally going to die. And he’s still a freaking virgin.)

“Of course not, Stiles.” Derek’s tone suggests he thinks otherwise, but Stiles can’t really focus on that right now because Derek is grabbing his other arm and wrapping it around the other side of his neck before his hands settle on Stiles hips (Stiles resolutely _does not_ think about all the things that his traitorous body are doing right now), and then lifting him and pulling him closer till Stiles feet settle on his own. Stiles thinks about stepping back and protesting more but Derek’s arms settled on his waist like he knows exactly what Stiles is thinking.

Stiles just gives up.

The entire event had already taken a song, it had been a decent one that Stiles thinks was The Fray or maybe Plain White T’s because Derek is a dork who likes slow love songs. Another one starts up and so Derek starts moving in easy steps (which hello, even if Stiles weighs about as much as a daisy when he’s soaking wet he’s not exactly the smallest or lightest person in the world, how are Derek’s toes not being crushed and how is he able to move so easily an fluidly?)

Stiles resolutely does not think about the million images in his mind of how this situation must look, and his dignity has very clearly left the building. The song is pretty, though, and despite his thoughts he finds himself relaxing and resting his head on Derek’s shoulder like Lydia had with him back at the winter formal.

_Don’t let go yet, don’t let goooo yet._

Stiles listens to the lyrics as a soft male voice sings with a slight female harmony in the background. The only sound is two guitars and an organ until that line repeats itself, in which a drum joins in. The song builds perfectly, and Stiles can feel Derek’s heart beating under his cheek, and he can feel Derek’s hair in between his fingers (which, when the hell did that start happening), and he doesn’t care that he’s dancing like a little kid dances with their dad. He doesn’t care that he’s missing senior prom.

This moment seems sacred somehow, the full moon shining in through all the windows and the speakers making it seem like they’re surrounded by the band.

_Don’t let go yet. Don’t let go yet._

It could be Stiles imagination but it seems like Derek tightens his hold on Stiles, and Stiles thinks he can feel Derek’s fingers lightly tapping out the rhythm of the song as they glide about the living room.

_Don’t let go yet. Don’t let go yet._

The song comes to an end very gently and Stiles finds that they move for a few more counts before the silence ends and the next song pops up. Stiles has the sudden urge to get as far from Derek as he can, because if he stays here, right in his arms any longer he’s going to do something very stupid. He lifts his head, and begins to pull his arms away when Derek whispers.

“Don’t let go yet.” Those four words send Stiles heart even more into a tizzy and he opens his mouth to say something, anything really, only for a look to flash over Derek’s face and Stiles hands instead grab him by the jaw and pull their lips together. Whatever song is currently playing through the speakers isn’t registering in his brain, all he can focus on is Derek.

And Derek is returning his kiss with fervor. His hands are holding tightly to Stiles, while Stiles clings to him like a lifeline. They stop drifting around the living room and yet Stiles stays with his feet on Derek’s, as if Derek would even let him go that far away from him. They kiss till they’re out of breath and Derek rests their foreheads together, rubbing his nose along Stiles’ with a soft smile.

“Okay so maybe missing senior prom isn’t as bad as I thought it would be.”

Derek laughs into his neck and Stiles cards his fingers through Derek’s incredibly soft hair with a wry grin.


End file.
